In a city increasingly confused by immigration, tourism, and the many paths and
pitfalls that lie in between (1), one has to make things a bit more complicated
and remind oneself that there are legitimate forms of arrival that don't have
anything to do with any of this. Here is the case of a traveler who has vowed
to never depart, but at the same time comes without the slightest intention to
stay. She even makes a friend, who will help her to disintegrate from society.
It's a drinking film, queer cinema avant la lettre, another tale from the
Westberlin Heimatfront (2), staged with a very Fassbinder sense for kitsch and
drama that hardly -- the opening shots of Tegel at its originally intended
passenger capacity may be the only exception -- allows for nostalgia. It's
1979, and even though more cinematic evidence of that era exists, not many have
captured it with the cold compassion of Ulrike Ottinger. She's also gotten the
tempo right, what her film proposes is a pretty slow mode of navigating Berlin.
The guy who made Run Lola Run should have taken a look at this and given up.